Knight, thou fallen star
by Juubi-K
Summary: My first medieval fic.  Ken is a Lord with a difficult past, but King Taichi and his court have problems of their own.  (Chapter Six Up, chapter Five rewritten)
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer – I don't own any of this.

(This is my first medieval fic.  I understand that some hate these and some love them, so I thought I'd take a chance.  I know that the medieval European setting doesn't really fit, but it is something I'm reasonably familiar with, so I'll use it in this experiment.  Later, when I've done some more research I'll try a Japanese setting, though for this one I'll add some Japanese stuff where it fits.  I will also be using digimon in this because I feel like it.  For now, please read and enjoy!

  PS – I'll be using some characters of my own design.  If you recognise and hate them, then please tell me and I will never use them again.  Please be honest.)  

Knight, thou fallen star

By Juubi

Chapter One

The summer was a warm one, as though from some childhood idyll.  Such is how one remembers it, where every day was bright and warm, a slight breeze in the air.

Such it seemed was every part of the Kingdom of Aldebaran in height of summer, but particularly so in the Royal residence at Alderamin.  

The court was a hive of activity, as it always was.  The Yagami dynasty was famed for it, and the recently crowned King Taichi was no exception.  The Palace, and the surrounding city and province of Alderamin were in uproar over the upcoming state visit of Yamato Ishida, King of Rigel, a client kingdom of Aldebaran.

The ladies of the court were particularly excited, as both the young Kings were unmarried.  And there was much talk of the unknown person King Yamato was bringing with him.  

All, however, was not well within the Royal household.  

Sir Jyou, the King's Physician, glanced nervously at the door of the Royal Privy.  Sir Koushiro, a Knight of the Household, was hanging around at the other end of the room.

 Or at least that was what he appeared to be doing.  

 He was always watching, his intelligent eyes scanning the room, taking in every little detail.  There was always danger in a King's Household.

Some of the other courtiers were there too, but not all of them.  Most of them were off preparing for the arrival of King Yamato.

A good thing too.  It wouldn't do for them to see the King like this. 

"I hope it wasn't something I did" commented Jyou nervously.  "It usually turns put to be something I did."

"Don't worry about it," Gomamon commented at his ankle.  "You're the physician after all, what you're doing is in his best interests."

"Gomamon is right," spoke Father Iori, chaplain and spiritual advisor to the Household, also a warrior-priest of some renown.  "The King trusts you."  

"I think I know what it is," came a peculiar voice from the window.  Jyou looked to see Tentomon fly in through the open window and perch himself on the sill.  "It's because of _him _again.  You know, _the one we mustn't mention?_"

 "You'd think he'd be over that by now,"Koushiro rolled his eyes.  "I mean, how ill can this have made him?"

 "Did he take the syrup of figs?" Jyou asked guardedly.

 "Yes," Koushiro replied, his face twisting with distaste at the memory.  "It made things worse."

This comment served to make Jyou even more nervous.  The King was hot-headed and quick to anger, but he had been on edge quite a lot recently.  Jyou had been both his protector and his doctor long enough to learn a few things about King Taichi.

Things he hadn't necessarily wanted to know.  

The most notable symptom of stress in the King was a tendency to bring up _that_ issue.  It was not normally good practice for anyone to annoy a monarch, but anyone who annoyed King Taichi was in for serious trouble.

The Privy door crashed open, making everyone in the room jump.  King Taichi strode out, wearing only a blue robe with ermine trim.  All bowed.

"Okay!" he snarled, obviously peeved.  "Which one of you prescribed the syrup of figs?!"

"Uh…I did…Sire," Jyou felt ridiculous.  He wished he had not changed into his ceremonial garb earlier of a pale blue cloak, mail coat and sword.  He felt like an overdressed clown.

"Then you're an idiot!" Taichi said venomously.

"It was only a mild purgative!" Jyou blurted out, nervousness overcoming court protocol.

"MILD?!" the King roared.  "I was stuck to that damn privy all night!  There's enough down there to drown a Monochromon!  Maybe I should recommend it to the assassins; three glasses guaranteed incapacitation!"

"Three glasses?!" Jyou exclaimed.  "But you were only supposed to take three spoonfuls!"

The King stopped.  All present held their breath.

What they had mistaken for astonishment at Jyou's rudeness was in fact embarrassment.  The King had misheard his instructions the night before.  

Taichi sagged, and his demeanour went from rage to exhaustion and vulnerability.  

"I'm sorry," he said eventually.  "I shouldn't have…said such things."

"That's okay," remarked Agumon, who emerged from the Privy chamber.  "You're under a lot of pressure."  
  "Father Iori," the King regained his composure.  "How are the preparations?"

"All goes well Sire," Father Iori replied in his mild, polite manner.  "King Yamato of Rigel and his entourage should be arriving within the hour."  
  "Where are Princess Hikari and Princess Mimi?" 

"Er…" Father Iori blushed and the other courtiers looked away.  

"Well?"  King Taichi seemed in danger of losing his patience again. 

"Their Royal Highnesses are in Princess Mimi's chambers," Tentomon said.

"What?!  What are they doing in there?!" Taichi exclaimed.  Tentomon blushed, if such a thing was possible.

"Choosing their apparel sire" he replied eventually. Taichi sagged again.

"As big as Princess Mimi's wardrobe is, that could take hours!"  He turned to Iori.  "Father Iori, go and tell them to hurry up!"

"Me?!" Iori blushed redder than Tentomon.  "Sire I can't go in there!"

"Yes you can!" Taichi snapped, his patience gone.  "I'm the King and I can say who can and can't go where!  And it's not like you're breaking your vows or anything!"  He made to walk away, but then stopped and eyed Iori suspiciously.

"So long as you don't do anything…unbecoming."  He strode off along the corridor, the other courtiers running to keep up.  

 "Why does this have to happen to me Armadillomon?"  Iori was still red in the face.  

 "Don't ask me," his partner replied.  "You're the Priest here, not me."

It wasn't that he had a problem with them.  He had known the Princesses Hikari and Mimi, and Lady Sora and Lady Miyako their attendants, since he had been a nervous young novice of eight summers.  Now fourteen, he was one of the youngest warrior clerics in living memory.  As such, there were certain things he should not do and certain thoughts he should not think.

It had been easy then, when they were children.  The girls had been innocent, happy, carefree and, most importantly of all, shapeless.  

Now he had trouble even looking at them.  It wasn't just the…well fortunately they were concealed, but everything.  They had all grown into such beautiful young women, in both body and soul.  It was enough to make him wish he had not taken the vows.

But if he had not, then he would never have met them.  He was not an aristocrat by birth, but had been chosen for the novitiate because he had proven himself worthy.  Had this not happened, then he never would have known them at all.  

In particular, his friendship with Lady Miyako would never have happened.

Father Iori sighed, adjusted his mail coat, pulled his black cloak about him and headed for the Royal apartments.  This was going to be very embarrassing.    

*                    *                      *                      *

The morning broke over ruin and destruction.

Though the raiders had been defeated, they had managed to loot and burn the small village and kill most of its inhabitants.

Ken Ichijouji, Lord of Alioth, sat on his brown stallion and surveyed the destruction.  A few men-at-arms stood around, within nothing to do as the enemy had been driven off.  An even smaller number of survivors picked through the piles of ash and charcoal that had once been their homes, searching for valuables or the bodies of loved ones.  

He felt sorry for them.  They had lost what little they owned in a single night of carnage.  He also felt angry with those who had done this, and he desired revenge for his tenants.  They had trusted him to protect them.  And it was up to him to prove that it had not been for nothing after all. 

He wondered who it was that had attacked his people.  Bandits most likely.  Warriors who travelled the land burning, raping and pillaging as they pleased.  

There was a thump and Ken looked to see Stingmon land next to him.  He felt relieved to see the tall green-armoured digimon again.  They had been together since Ken was a child.

Since _those _days.

Ken did not like to think about those times.  He had tried to let go of the past ever since his digimon had returned to him.  It had never been easy, and this little incident was a reminder for him.

Though Ken was a great Lord of the Northern border of Aldebaran, he didn't look much like one.  His horse was old and sway-backed.  He wore a mail coat that had belonged to his father, carried a cheap shield and a sword he had looted after a skirmish a year ago.  His financial situation was not perfect.  It hadn't been ever since he returned home to find his father's estates well fleeced.  

No doubt to pay his brother's ransom.  He must also have been captured.  Yet his parents had made such sacrifices to pay for _his_ freedom, yet not for their second son.  

Their worthless spare son, perhaps not even legitimate.  The son they ignored in favour of the prodigy that was Osamu.    

His parents were dead.  They had died some time before his return.  His brother Osamu, their golden son, was god-knows-where.  Being the only one available, Ken had taken up the title and was content with it.  Being a Lord was surprisingly easy; so long as the King could not stand the sight of you.  

At seventeen, he was Lord and master of the entire province of Alioth.  He could summon two-hundred Knights to his banner, along with their retinues.  Thousands owed him fealty and, more importantly at the present time, rents.  He was not rich, as he had only recently finished paying off the bankers and charged far less rent than most of his equals and betters did.  He was simply not the sort to triple the rents just to get on the Tournament circuit for a season or two.  

Though he often considered himself unworthy, he did his best for his people.  He governed them, heard their petitions, held annual tournaments.

But he had failed to protect the people of this small village.

Strange that the bandits had made it this far.  If the accounts of the survivors were correct, then the raiders had come from the south.

Why had they not been stopped by others?  They could not possibly have slipped past the border, as he employed local the Elfmon to keep an eye out.  They must have come via the neighbouring territories.   

Had it been deliberate?  Had Duke Charles let them pass unchallenged to ravage his lands just to amuse himself?

Or amuse the King perhaps?  Royal disfavour was not enviable.  Though the King was unwilling to directly attack one of his own Lords, that did not stop him pulling something like this.

A surge of hatred ran through his heart.  Though Taichi Yagami was King of Aldebaran, Lord Ken did not have to like him.  He was a selfish, hot-headed, insensitive oaf, who had always delighted in making other people's lives miserable.  

"Ken?  Ken, what's wrong?"  Ken was stirred from his reverie by a familiar voice.  He looked down to see Wormmon, to which form Stingmon had reverted, sitting on his saddle pommel and staring up at him with worry in his blue eyes.

"Oh…the usual," Ken replied quietly, not really wanting to talk about it.  "Any sign of them?"

"The survivors are heading north," Wormmon said in a more serious tone.  "About fifty of them."

Ken grimaced.  Fifty would not normally have been a problem, but of his two hundred Knights, only three were available, as their manors had been closest to his own.  

Elderly Sir Gregor Hunt had seven archers with him.  Sir John Clairmont, a brash young Knight of about Ken's age, had brought six Hobilars, light infantry on horseback.  Finally there was Sir Robert Valindale, a very unpleasant fellow, who was accompanied by four men-at-arms on horseback and his long-suffering squire, Daisuke Motomiya.  Also a Leomon who happened to be passing, and a Meramon with a score to settle. 

They would have to do.

First up was Sir Robert.  He walked his fine black stallion over and gave a small, almost insolent bow.

"Quite a slaughter eh…Sire."  His voice dripped with condescension.  "Pity they didn't stay long, I might have notched my sword a little more."  He raised himself in his stirrups.

"MOTOMIYA!  DAMN YOU!  GET YOUR LAZY BONES OVER HERE!" he roared, his courtly tone gone.   

His squire cantered over, on a horse that was in even worse condition than Ken's own.  He was about Ken's age, with a strong build and spiky red-brown hair.  His brown eyes sparkled with spirit and energy.  Yet there was nervousness to his demeanour which did not seem to fit.  It was no great surprise, considering how Sir Robert treated him.  Where his master wore fine plate-mail, Daisuke had to make do with a leather jerkin.

"Get this clean and sharpened!" Sir Robert all but threw his blood-encrusted sword at Daisuke.  "And do it quickly, or else I'll have the skin off your back!"  Daisuke bowed and hurried away.

Ken did not like this at all, but it was not really his business how his Knights treated their Squires.  He might have believed in chivalry up to a point, but Sir Robert despised it as unmanly.  He began to hope that Sir Robert would be killed, for this boy's sake.

Also, he would be able to appropriate Sir Robert's horse.      

He gazed upon his other two Knights, once they had assembled.  Young Sir John, with a shock of blond hair, was itching for a fight.  Sir Gregor, his hair whitened by age, looked old and tired, but ready nonetheless.  Ken knew better than to equate age with weakness in this man's case.  

"Gentlemen," Ken put on his best speaking tone.  "What has happened here today was tragic, but there is no time for us to mourn.  We must pursue the invaders and slay them all in punishment for their deeds."

"We are all with you my Lord!" Sir John replied with ardour.  

"Aye, my Lord," Sir Gregor wheezed.  

"And I too Sire," Sir Robert had reverted to his velvet voice.  

"Come," Ken raised his voice so all could hear.  "We go!"

He stood his horse and watched the soldiers assemble, all dressed in their masters' liveries.  Grey boars on a black field for Sir Gregor.  Prancing white horses on a green field for Sir John, and black crosses on a red field for Sir Robert.  

Lord Ken's livery, worn by the twelve men-at-arms who had accompanied him, was a dark red hawk with a white head on a blue field.

Dark red with a white head, for an old friend.

As they were preparing to ride away, the Squire Daisuke came racing up with the sword, which he presented to Sir Robert.  There was a look of desperate hope on his face.

Sir Robert took the sword with an expression suggesting that he had stood in something foul-smelling, inspected it, sheathed it, and then rode on.

Ken felt a pang of sympathy for the young squire, who looked utterly crushed.  Even though it wasn't exactly proper, he had to say something.  

"Don't worry about it," he said.  Daisuke looked up in alarm as he rode up.  "He'll learn to appreciate your efforts when he's being set upon by a hungry Kuwagamon."  Lord Ken gave him what he thought was an encouraging smile, then turned his horse and galloped to the head of the column, Wormmon digivolving and taking to the air.  

Daisuke stared after his Lord, his heart filling with admiration.

_"He talked to me.  He…he even smiled at me!" _  

(Well, here it is.  Did you enjoy it?  Or have I been reading too much history?  This is my first attempt at a medieval fic, so just tell me if it is awful.  I don't want to waste effort writing something that is bad.  Please review so that I will know to delete this crap if that's what you think of it too.) 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2

"How about this one?"  

Princess Hikari looked up to see Lady Miyako holding up a white dress at which Princess Mimi gestured.  She blushed.

"I can't wear that!" she exclaimed, embarrassed by the low neckline.  "Taichi will…"  
  "Don't worry about Taichi-chan!" Mimi reassured her.  "You're not a little girl anymore.  He'll have to accept it some day.  And besides," she added with a coquettish wink, "you want to look good for our mystery visitor, don't you?"

_"Easy for you to say," _Hikari thought sourly.  _"You look good no matter what you wear." _

Not that this was an issue.  Her dress was a pale shade of pink, with fine lace and a worryingly low neckline that partially exposed her shoulders.  Her attendant, Lady Miyako, also wore pink.  Her dress was a little more modest, but not much so.  

She turned to the mirror.  A sixteen going on seventeen-year-old girl stared back.

Despite the fact that she and Mimi had every Gentleman of the court sighing at their feet, she did not consider herself particularly beautiful.  She was pretty, but in a childish sort of way, lacking Mimi's teenage charm or Sora's sisterly warmth. 

At least that was what she thought, though everyone else repeatedly denied it.  

Her shape, of course, meant that Taichi could try all he liked, but she was not a child any longer.  Though her hair was quite short, only reaching her chin, her breasts were all but finished growing.  Though small, they were still visible.

"You see what I mean?" Mimi appeared at her shoulder.  "Show them off a little."  She tugged playfully at the hem of the linen shift, pulling it tighter and bringing her breasts into sharp relief.  She giggled as Hikari squeaked in shock and pulled the hem from her fingers.  

"Well," Hikari turned to the others.  "As you're my attendants, I would never wear anything that would embarrass you."

"I think it's perfect for you," Lady Sora commented.  "White for innocence, but grown-up too." 

 Lady Sora's gown was red, though her cleavage and shoulders were covered by a semi-translucent red veil that reached the base of her neck.  It was a clever compromise between fashion and modesty.  Hikari had always been able to trust her advice, and saw no reason not to on this occasion.  

But she thought it proper to ask her two remaining attendants, Lady Jun and Lady Angeline, both in pale blue, their opinion.  

"I think it suits you brilliantly!" Jun said when asked.

"Milady," Lady Angeline drew herself up, "no man will be able to resist you."

"Oh all right then!" Hikari gave in, and went behind a decorated screen with Lady Miyako.  

There was a cough from the doorway. All turned to see Biyomon, who seemed to have come over rather giggly.

"Father Iori is outside with a message from the King" she eventually managed to say.

"Then bring him in," Hikari said from behind the screen.  "I want to know what he thinks."

"I don't think he wants to," Biyomon barely restrained herself from giggling again.

"Then tell him we're all fully dressed," Hikari replied with some exasperation.  "And stop giggling!" she reproved the others as Biyomon went out, "you'll hurt his feelings!"

Biyomon returned a few moments later with Father Iori, whose face was the colour of Sora's dress.  He bowed low, though nervousness and sheer embarrassment made him clumsier than usual.  

"Ah, Iori," Hikari stepped out from behind the screen.  "What do you think?"

It was all Iori could do not to scream and run away. 

"You look radiant Madame," he replied too quickly.  She looked angelic, the dress accentuating her slim figure and pale skin, to say nothing of her…

Hikari blushed when she noted Iori's line of sight and tugged self-consciously at her neckline.  

"So," she put on a courtly tone to hide her embarrassment.  "What does onnichan want?"

"Madame…" Iori began, blushing even more at her referral to the King as 'onnichan.'  "His Majesty wishes for your Royal Highnesses to present yourselves at all due haste, as his Majesty King Yamato will be arriving within the..."

"Who is he bringing?" Mimi interrupted, unable to contain herself.

"I…I don't know…Madame," Iori replied, wishing that Armadillomon would stop flirting with Biyomon.  Her giggling was putting him off.

 "Iori, please stop calling me that," Hikari laughed as she spoke.  "You make me sound like a crazy old Duchess.  Here, we use first names."

"As you wish…Hikari" Iori replied, forcing himself to use the name he had not dared to call her by for four years.      

"How long did you say?" 

"Within the hour…Hikari."

"Within the hour!" Mimi exclaimed.  "How does he expect us to be ready within the hour!?  Go and tell him to be patient!"

"Iori…" Hikari shot a glare at Mimi.  "Please tell his majesty that we will present ourselves soon."

"Yes uh…Hikari," Iori bowed and backed out of the room, Armadillomon reluctantly following him.

"I don't know why you had to be so mean," Hikari said reprovingly once both were out of earshot.  

"Why not?" Mimi was unperturbed.  "He's so cute when he's nervous!"  

"Cute?" Hikari didn't bother to stop herself from giggling. "Mimi, he's a Templar!  You know he's not allowed!"

"So?" Mimi leered.  "That doesn't stop most of the clergy.  And it's not like either of us are ever going to marry for love."

As Mimi continued to babble, none of them noticed Lady Angeline walk up to the open window.

"I wouldn't say that at all.  Duke Michael is a more than suitable match!"  

Mimi blushed and covered her mouth in shock that Hikari had known about _that_ little secret of hers.  

"Anyway, we'd better hurry or Taichi-chan will start having kittens.  He wants to intimidate poor Yama so much that it's got everyone on edge." 

As Mimi sat to have her hair arranged, Hikari headed over to the window.  Lady Angeline curtseyed, surreptitiously coughing to muffle the sound of something the approximate size and weight of a male human landing in the bushes.  

"What was that?" Hikari asked in a whisper.

"Just some lecher," Lady Angeline whispered back.  "He wasn't an assassin."

"How do you know?"  
  "His demeanour was wrong."  Lady Angeline took a quick glance out of the window.  For all her fine manners, Hikari could tell that something was wrong.

"Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine so long as I can keep concentrating."

"Don't worry," Hikari patted her hand.  "You look beautiful.  No one will suspect."

"It's not that milady," she blushed and looked bashfully at her pale blue gown.  "I've just never worn anything like this before."

"You'll be okay," Hikari reassured her.  "Does _you know what_ work?"

"Yes.  I've been practicing."  
  "Good, though I hope we won't need it."

"Of course," came Mimi's voice from the vanity.  "He'll just blame it all on _the one we mustn't mention_.  That's got to be one of his most annoying…"  
  Out of the corner of her eye, Hikari could see Lady Miyako start at the mention of _him_.  

"I just hope he'll get over that," she said, as loudly as possible so as to draw attention from Lady Miyako.  She knew, however, that there was little hope of it.

*                    *                      *                      *                      *

There is nothing quite as sad as the sight of a captured city.

Though the inner buildings were largely intact, a fire had broken out somewhere in the outskirts, causing more casualties among the defenders in a few hours than the attackers had in a full week.

  Some of those buildings that had escaped the fire had failed however to escape the boulders.  The huge trebuchets had contributed by hurling everything from pieces of masonry to ancient standing stones.  Some digimon would loot anything.  

It could have been considered a glorious victory for the attackers, as casualties had been thankfully low. 

The thought gave Prince Magnus of Antares little comfort as he rode his black stallion up the remains of a tree-lined avenue.  Normally, the trees would be hung with the corpses of his own men, executed for looting.  

There were none however.  He had long given up on punishing looters, except in extreme cases, as it rarely did any good.  It was enshrined within the unwritten rules of war that any fortress that resisted was fair game.  

All around him, a city tried to pick up the pieces, though they had yet to face the greater reality.  The truth that, in this final orgy of destruction, their nation had reached the end of its slow and painful death.

Eltanin, the ancient enemy of Antares, was no more. 

Her once glorious capital, which had been so heroically defended, was a burnt-out husk.  Her armies had been broken and butchered, her people scattered, her villages burnt to the ground, her livestock stolen or slaughtered, her crops stashed away in Antarian warehouses.     

 All to fulfil the ambitions of one man.

King Stefan of Antares was old; some said even dying.  The approach of death had not dulled his lust for power.  If anything, his pride and ambition had grown stronger as his body had grown weaker.  It had become his wish to hold the entire world in his grasp, even if for the final moment of his life.  

And Prince Magnus, his son and heir to his throne, could do nothing about it.  He had no choice but to kill and conquer in his father's name.

The punishment for disobedience was too horrible to consider.

He had first tested his skills on a few neighbouring states, crushing them and bringing them under the banner of Antares.  This done, he was sent to destroy Eltanin, Antares' strongest neighbour and oldest rival.

In a series of brutal and brilliantly conducted battles, Magnus had broken the Eltanian armies.  He had then captured those cities which refused to surrender, the latest and last of which was Altair, the Capital.

All that was left now was mopping up.

Magnus looked up at the castle, which was missing its North tower as a result of the bombardment.  He saw the black fist banner of Antares fluttering in the wind.  

He had loved that flag once, and everything it stood for.  Now he could barely stand the sight of it.  He had seen it fly over too many battlefields, too many ransacked villages, too many mountains of the dead.  

There were times when he wanted to break down and weep like a child.  How many had he killed for no good reason?  How many wives had he widowed?  How many children had he orphaned?

_"When I am King, I will put an end to this madness."_

He doubted, however, that prince or peasant would accept a monster as King.

And he was a monster.  That much he knew.  Wishing for his own death would not make his hands any less red with innocent blood.

He stood his horse at the end of the avenue, watching the dead being taken out of the city for burial.  The sight tugged once more at his heart.  

A clatter of hooves came from behind him.  He did not look up as his retainer, Sir Logan, reined in his grey destrier.

"Sire?"  Sir Logan asked, concern in his tone.  "Are you all right?"

"What have I done, Logan?" Magnus said, his voice hoarse and tired.  

"You did what had do be done Sire," Logan replied.  "There was no other way."

"No other way?!" Magnus roared, rounding on his friend as pent-up grief and frustration bubbled to the surface.  "Look at this!" 

He flung his arm back to point at the smouldering husk of the Saint Celestine Cathedral.  

"They're dead!  Thousands upon thousands!  And you say it had to be done?!"

"Yes Sire," Logan said, his tone firm to hide his fear. "You know as well as I do what will happen if we do not obey the King."

Magnus sagged, the anger draining out of him.

"You're right of course," he said eventually.  "If I obey, innocents must perish.  If I disobey, then those most precious to me die.  I lose my heart either way."

"The King does not have long to live," Logan said in a low voice so as not to be overheard.  "All you have to do is find some excuse to delay the campaign until he is dead."

"A good idea," Magnus admitted.  "But there is the problem of coming up with a suitable excuse.  But since you suggested it, I'll let you handle it."  

He raised himself in his stirrups as his other retainers approached.  

"Sir Logan, you and Sir Tanya will remain here in charge, while Sir Sami and Sir Conrad will return with me."

"As you command Sire." Logan grinned as Magnus rode off with Sir Sami and Sir Conrad.

"Do you think this will work?" 'Sir' Tanya asked.

"It's all I could come up with," Sir Logan replied.  "I want this to be over as much as anyone."

Sir Tanya was only Sir Tanya when no one was around to overhear.  Like Sami, Logan,  and Conrad, Sami's younger brother, she had been selected as a child to attend upon Prince Magnus.  The Queen had decided that some female company would do her son the world of good.  

It was unusual enough for a Prince to have female attendants, but even more unusual were the ambitions of those attendants.  Tanya and Sami had one thing in common, apart from having digimon partners.

They wanted to fight.  

Curiously, there was nothing in written law that forbade women to fight.  Only male bigotry stood in their way, and in a world where men held the power that counted for a great deal.  

All her life she had dreamed of becoming a Knight, of proving her worth in battle.  She had wanted something more out of life than hanging around trying to look pretty for rich men.  She wanted to settle down, of course, but she wanted to make someone of herself first.

Walking in on Sami one day had changed her life.  With a friend who also liked to dress up like a boy from time to time, she had become bolder.  They had learnt battle skills from their digimon partners and the intricacies of male impersonation from Logan and Conrad.  However, it was not until the Prince's fourteenth birthday that she and Sami got their lucky break.

During the raucous celebrations, she and Sami had wagered that a girl could make as good a knight as any boy.  They proved their point by later unhorsing several Knights at a Tournament.  

The prizes of the wager had been horses, armour and weapons for both of them, but the real prize came shortly after the Tournament.  Once back at Sirius Castle, Prince Magnus had bade them kneel and then, to the shock of all present, knighted both of them.  

Apart from themselves, only Prince Magnus, Sir Logan, Sir Conrad and their respective digimon knew their real identities.  

And it suited her just fine.

Because there was a war coming, and she would have the chance to test her skills and show the world what a woman was capable of.

(Okay, it's done.  Sorry it took so long.  Please don't flame me too badly over the first bit.  I was playing it by ear, as I'm really not sure what would have been appropriate.  Constructive criticism would be much appreciated.  Is it too obvious who _the one we mustn't mention_ is?  Please R+R.)     


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3

  Stingmon crouched on the rocky promontory, staring at the scene playing out before him.

That was the strange thing about the riders.  Though they were cloaked, apparently in an attempt at disguise, Stingmon could make out chaimail on all of the mounted figures.  And their horses were good too.  

Bandits would not be so well equipped or mounted.  Nor would they bother to disguise themselves.  _What was going on?_

But what was truly remarkable was the altercation going on between the leader of the riders and a digimon.

It was taller than a man, obviously male, and heavily muscled.  Black-feathered wings like those of a raven extended from its back.  It wore black leathers, including a fur-lined jacket, black armour plates and heavy boots.  Its face was pale, and mostly concealed from top to cheeks behind a curious blue and black helmet that tapered to a point at the chin.  Its claws looked as though they could punch through plate armour.

Stingmon strained his ears to hear them.

"…said no raiding!  No one was to be hurt!"

"What choice was there!?  We needed supplies and the men were bored"

"That's not my problem!  This is going to be upon your head Sir Yuri!  Not mine!"

And with that, the strange creature spread its wings and flew away into the clouds.

_"I'm glad I don't have to fight him today."_

The remaining fifty riders milled around in no particular array.  Stingmon wondered what they were waiting for.  They were on an open plain fringed with woodland to the North.  A river snaked along the west, separating from the forest and heading North-west, leaving a small gap through which they might escape.  The might also go east, though the woodland stretched for miles and was full of Elfmon, who did not take kindly to invasion.

They could not go back the way they had come, for Lord Ken was marching up that road.  The cliff on which Stingmon crouched stretched to the river, effectively sealing them in on three sides.

Stingmon wished that the Elfmon would intervene, but they were paid to listen, not to fight.  Lord Ken, unlike some other human Lords including his own ancestors, had never mistreated them, but that was not favour enough to have them risk their lives.  

Lord Ken, three Knights, eighteen men and two digimon would have to do.  

Rather than take to the sky straight away, Stingmon turned and ran down the hill, spreading his insectile wings only when he could no longer see the enemy.

He did not have to fly far.

Daisuke watched in wonderment as Stingmon gave his report to Lord Ken and the Knights.  He could barely hear it, as he was not worthy to ride with them, but he strained to listen.

It seemed as though the enemy were all but trapped, and that they would soon fight.  

He hoped that he would be allowed to fight.  Here was a chance to prove himself to Sir Robert.

And, more importantly, to Lord Ken Ichijouji, Earl of Alioth.

To a casual observer, Lord Ken looked nothing like the grim warrior his reputation suggested.  Though his body was lean and powerful, his face was youthful and smooth, with purple hair hanging delicately around his chin.  His appearance had led to rumours regarding his sexual preferences.  What gave these rumours substance was the belief among many that he was still chaste.

Chaste at seventeen, some said, made a person one of two things.  The first was pious, the second was queer.

A while ago, when he was young and foolish, Daisuke might have believed such rumours.  But life's trials had driven such credulousness out of him.    

He had been Sir Robert's squire for nearly six years.  His family, though noble, had fallen on hard times.  Getting to become a squire, especially to the famous Sir Robert Valindale, had been a lucky break.  It was preferable to a marriage of convenience such as the one his sister had endured.

He pictured Jun in his mind.  He had not seen her since he had left with Sir Robert.  He felt guilty, because for most of his childhood he had hated his own family, thinking they cared only for Jun and not for him.

Then, riding away behind Sir Robert, he had taken one last look at his childhood home.  He had seen Jun in a window, staring after him.

He wasn't sure, but it looked as though she had been weeping.  

That guilty image had remained with him for all those long years.  Years of being stuck with Sir Robert, the most ungrateful and abusive man he had ever known.  

"Dais'ke," came a voice from inside his pack.  "Dais'ke let me out."  
  "Not yet Chibimon!" Daisuke hissed, pushing the little blue digimon back inside.  He did not want anyone to know about his partner digimon just yet.

Not until he had proven himself.  

The plan was thus.  Sir Gregor's archers and Meramon would take up position along the hill, protected from the enemy by the cliff.  The Hobilars would dismount and move up the river, made shallow by the summer heat, with Leomon in support.  The Knights and Men-at-Arms, led by Lord Ken and Stingmon, would attack along the path.

The archers, once in position, strung their bows.  The tall yew bows were peasants' weapons, scorned by many aristocrats, yet their sheer rate of fire made them deadly.  Most nobles used archers to defend their lands, where victory was more important than acquiring honour.  

The real reason for their dislike or grudging acceptance would soon be made clear.

The Hobilars, crouched low to avoid being seen, followed Leomon along the river, hoping to sneak past the enemy and block their escape.  

The enemy realised something was going on just as the first arrows flew.  

Lord Ken held his followers back, even as the hissing of white-fletched arrows and the screams of the dying mingled in the air.

"Soon we attack," he spoke to them, recognising the urge for battle in them even if he did not share it.  "I will remind you one last time.  Do not enter the forest if you wish to see another day."

And with that, he drew his cheap sword and motioned forward.  Behind him, three knights, four Men-at-arms and a squire rode to battle.  

As they rounded the corner, the battle came into view.  It assailed all of Ken's senses at once.  He could hear the clang of steel on steel.  He could smell and even taste spilt blood and, strangely enough, roasting meat.  He could see men and horses lying dead, riddled with arrows, turning green to red.  He could also see the scorched patches and the remains of those unfortunates caught by Meramon's fireballs.  

There are some who claim that battle has a feel to it.  The rush of adrenaline, a pang of fear, the fierce exultation of victory in sight.

And Ken felt it.  It looked like about half of the enemy were dead already from the shooting.  He could see a few trying to escape north, only to be corned by the Hobilars with their spears.  One or two headed into the forest.

They would doubtless never be seen again.  Ken knew only too well who lived in that forest, just as he had known instinctively how these raiders would behave.  As such, he knew that these were a bunch of amateurs, unaccustomed to the unique discipline of raiding.  

A discipline with which Ken was intimately familiar.

Knowing the moment, he kicked his horse into a canter.  The others fell into line either side of him, riding knee to knee.  The land was uneven, making for a rough ride.  Ken remained in his saddle with no effort.  Riding, like battle, held few horrors for him.  

He glanced along his short line.  Sir Gregor's wrinkled face showed no emotion.  Sir John was staring ahead, wide-eyed and desperate to get stuck in.  He could not see Sir Robert's face, as his visor was down, but there was savagery in his eyes.  

Only the Squire Daisuke seemed afraid.  Ken did not blame him as the young squire had the least chance of surviving.  He was, after all, wearing only a leather jerkin that a financially problematic Kern[1] would think unworthy.  

Such thoughts were driven from his mind as the distance closed.  Ken could still hear the whistle of the arrows.  It was unbelievable that they had not seen him coming.

Then, finally, one of the enemy turned.  The soldier met Lord Ken's gaze for what seemed like an eternity.  Then he gave a scream made incomprehensible by the arrow that struck his throat.  But others turned, and they saw.

Ken thrust his sword forward and raked back his spurs.  The Men-at-arms lowered their lances.  Stingmon shot ahead, his purple wrist-blades extended.  Though Ken remained silent, their battle cries blared in his ears.

"For the King and for Aldebaran!"

"Saint Maximilian!" 

"Alioth!  Aldebaran!"

"For Honour!  For the Old Code!"

 They struck.  

  Ken ignored the noise that assailed his ears.  He struck, running an enemy through and knocking him from the saddle.  He turned, saw another foe charging him, caught the blow on his shield and then stabbed through the exposed armpit.  

He did not see them fall.  Already he was turning to meet another challenge.  He might have been poor, wearing hand-me-down armour and riding a flea-bitten mount, but he was still an aristocrat, and any man there could have made a name for himself by bringing down the youthful-looking Earl.  

They would not succeed. 

Looking around, he saw an unhorsed enemy soldier, alone in the chaos.  He spurred towards the unfortunate, sword aimed forward to impale him.

The soldier was carrying an axe.  When he saw Ken coming, he spread his feet wide and swung.  Ken tried to turn, but to no avail.  

The axe struck the horse's flank, barely missing his leg.  The horse screamed and reared.  Ken slid off; miraculously he did not become entangled in the stirrups, and thumped to the ground, momentarily seeing stars.  He was equally fortunate that the horse did not fall on him.

As he lay there, stunned by his landing, he wished that he had bothered to wear a helmet, insofar as he was able to think.

The axe-wielding man advanced on him, grinning with triumph.  Even as his death approached, Ken felt nothing.  He had sometimes expected to be afraid in his final moments, or full of proud anger.

The soldier raised the axe…

…and slumped backwards, as Stingmon withdrew his wrist blade then reached down to help Ken up.

"Thank you Stingmon."  
  "Don't mention it!"

There was a horrendous, piercing scream that drowned out even the noise of the battle.  Ken looked around, frantically trying to see what was making the sound.

Something huge and red came plummeting from the sky, insectile wings beating furiously.  It had pincers that could crush an armoured man and a mouth full of needle teeth.  It was heading straight for Sir Gregor.

"KUWAGAMON!" Lord Ken screamed in warning, but to no avail.  The digimon smashed Sir Gregor to the ground, left two of Sir Robert's men-at-arms sprawling in the dirt and crushed four wounded enemies.  

Ken did not bother to figure out whose side the digimon was on.  Kuwagamon were notoriously aggressive and would attack anyone.  No doubt the carnage had attracted it.

Stingmon flung himself upon Kuwagamon, raining blows upon its armoured shell.  Kuwagamon cringed, but did not back down, snapping its pincers as Stingmon dodged in and out.  

Ken ran to assist him, only to be sent sprawling by one of the pincers.  Kuwagamon screamed in frustration and slammed forward, knocking Stingmon over.  Before Stingmon could escape, Kuwagamon had him in its pincers.  Ken struggled to his feet and moved to help him, only to be restrained by an unseen hand.

"No my lord!  You can't fight that thing!"

It was Sir John Clairmont.  Blood run from his broken nose and his armour was dented in several places.  He held on to Ken's arm with surprising tenacity.

"It will surely kill you my Lord!"

"I don't care!" Ken pulled his arm free.  "I won't let Stingmon die!"

There was a crash as Kuwagamon suddenly rolled over.  A tall blue reptile was upon it, punching furiously.  Stingmon fell from Kuwagamon's pincers and tried to crawl away.  

Then the digimon suddenly staggered, a crossbow bolt sticking from his side.  Seeing the opportunity, Kuwagamon turned and brought its pincers together, crushing the blue digimon between them.

"Exveemon!" someone shouted.  Ken looked to see that it was the young squire who had shouted.

The young squire, who was trying to pull a spear from his body.  

Kuwagamon clashed its pincers together again, and again, until Exveemon could take no more.  He slumped to the ground and, his strength gone, devolved.  The squire finally pulled out the spear and ran to the digimon, picking him up and then backing away a few steps, the spear held one-handed, daring Kuwagamon to come and finish him off.  

Ken, followed closely by Sir John, limped to his side.

Daisuke held Veemon as though the digimon was his child.  He glared defiantly at Kuwagamon, menacing it with the spear that had been used to wound him earlier.

"You want me?  Come and get me!"

"Dais'ke," Veemon moaned.  "Dais'ke, leave me.  You can't beat him."

"I can't just leave you Veemon," Daisuke replied in a voice made hoarse by pain,  "you're…my only friend."

"Dais'ke…" Veemon uttered, then slipped into unconsciousness.  Daisuke snarled in defiance as Kuwagamon closed in, pincers snapping in eagerness to finish him off.  

Something inside Daisuke snapped.  

He screamed a scream of rage, of years of pent-up misery and frustration.  He darted forward and, snarling like a beast, thrust the spear between Kuwagamon's pincers and into its mouth, past the needle teeth and into the soft flesh.

Kuwagamon howled in pain and backed away.  Daisuke snarled in triumph and advanced.  

"No!" someone shouted.  Daisuke, blinded by anger, continued to advance until a mail-clad hand touched his shoulder.  He looked up in surprise to see his Lord's grim face.

He looked back to see who had shouted.  One of the enemy had stepped in front of Kuwagamon, who was lying moaning on the ground.  He wore chainmail and a black cloak like the others, but his sword was more ornate, with a gold-chased hilt.  

"Do you yield?" Lord Ken demanded, assuming that he was their leader.  

"Yes, I yield," the man replied.  "But I beg of you, spare my men and my digimon.  What they did they did because I ordered it.  Let the punishment for those dreadful deeds fall upon me and me alone."

There was a strange pause, as though fate herself was watching.

"What is your name?" Lord Ken asked eventually, breaking the moment.

"I am Yuri Kuryakov, Count of Ophiuchus."

"I am Lord Ken Ichijouji, Earl of Alioth," Ken replied.  "And I accept your surrender."  He glanced at the enemy soldiers being herded into a cluster by his remaining followers.  They looked a sorry bunch now, shorn of their pride.  He doubted that they would bring any decent ransoms.  

But Yuri, on the other hand, was a fine catch.  If he could assemble and pay fifty men-at-arms, then he had to be wealthy.

Even after sharing it among his followers as custom demanded, the ransom money meant that Ken could kiss his financial problems goodbye.  

"Your men can go," he said.  He would have to imprison them otherwise and they would be a burden.  "As can your digimon."

"No…" uttered Kuwagamon, his vicious energy gone.  "I must…stay…I won't leave….Yuri…"

"Kuwagamon is in need of healing," Yuri looked back to Lord Ken, pleading in his eyes and in his tone.  "I humbly ask that he receive it."

"Very well," Ken replied immediately.  If Kuwagamon was indeed Yuri's partner digimon, then Ken understood how he felt.

Only too well.  

A shout pulled him from his reverie.  He looked up to see Sir John standing a short distance away.

Next to the body of Sir Gregor.

Ken, knowing deep in his heart what was going to happen, walked slowly up and knelt at his side.

"Sir Gregor."

"My liege," the old man croaked.  "Did we…?"

"Yes," Ken finished.  "We have won."

"Then…I am content," Sir Gregor replied, smiling slightly.  "I am…glad…to be of service to you…my Lord."  He coughed a harsh and hacking cough, and Ken's eyes were inexorably drawn to his crushed breast plate.    

"You're going to be all right Sir Gregor" Ken said in what he thought was a reassuring tone.  But it only made the old Knight laugh, which in turn brought on another bout of coughing.

"You were never a good liar boy.  And I've known you all your life.  I'm finished my Lord, well finished."

Sir Gregor tipped his head sideways towards Daisuke, who was keeping a respectful distance.

"He did well."

"Yes," Ken grinned.  "He faced down Kuwagamon, and we've got him and his partner prisoner."

"Ah good," the familiar glint returned to his eyes.  "If it pleases you…my lord…he may have Alphard for his fief…I won't be needing it any longer." 

"Don't talk that way!" Ken's grin disappeared.  "You're not going to die!"

"Don't fool yourself boy!" Sir Gregor snarled.  "I should think you've seen enough death to know it when it comes."  

There was silence.  Ken hung his head.

"I'm sorry Sir Gregor.  I guess I'm just not as strong as Osamu was."

"You're as strong as you need to be…my Lord.  Never forget that."  He coughed again.  "Might I ask one favour, my Lord?"  

"Anything."  
  "Forgive them."

Ken was dumbstruck.  Of all the things to ask, of all the final requests he might have made, he just had to make that one.  It made the old anger rise again within him.

"No," he replied, knowing to whom he referred.  "Ask anything but that of me."

"They are not what you think…" Sir Gregor gagged, as though desperate to spit out his words before he died.  "Your mother and father…they…they…"

He shuddered.  His breath became a rattle.  His eyes glazed over.

And he was gone.

Ken stared at him for a few moments.  He had indeed known the elderly Knight all his life.  He had been Osamu's teacher of weapons.

And the only person he really knew who had been there when his parents had made their decision.  

The decision to abandon him to his fate.  The decision not to ransom him; to let him rot in order to keep their purses filled.

But the anger and sadness did not last.  It soon faded, replaced by the resignation he had grown accustomed to.  He hadn't felt much else for many years.  

He stood up, and turned to Daisuke.

"Is that all of yours?"  Ken gestured at the depressingly small bundle Veemon was tying up.

"Yes my Lord."

"Not much by the standards of most Squires."  And it wasn't.  Evidently the boy wasn't accustomed to casual thievery or looting.  A surprise.

"Come to think of it, where is your highly generous master?"  

"I…don't know," Daisuke looked around in confusion.  "He…I think he…"

"He's not here my Liege," Sir John spoke up.  "I saw him run away after Kuwagamon came along," he added with a sneer.

"Oh, too bad," Ken replied.  He had been hoping that Sir Robert would die and leave his rather fine horse.  He turned back to Daisuke.

"It was most courageous of you to face down a Kuwagamon alone.  And to defend your digimon too."

"He's my friend sire," Daisuke blushed.  "I know I'm not much of a hero, but I couldn't let him get eaten."  Ken knew his modesty was genuine, for he had endured enough sycophants to be able to tell the difference.

"Then return with me to my castle," he grinned and clapped Daisuke on the shoulder.  "Your observances shall begin tonight."  
  "You mean…!?" Daisuke spluttered.  And Ken did mean it.

There was only one accolade to suit Daisuke's valour.  It was an honour that some thought worthless, but even in Ken's cynical heart was still worth something.

He knew that he needed the King's permission.  He also knew that King Taichi was highly unlikely to grant permission, and Ken knew why.

But he didn't care.  He knew what was right in this situation, and he was going to do it no matter what anyone said.

He would settle up with the King later.

"Sire, might I ask you something?"  Ken realised that Daisuke had asked him the question.

"Of Course."

"Yuri said he was Count of Ophiuchus.  Where is it?  I've never heard of it."

"No," Ken replied grimly.  "You won't have."  
  He had a horrible feeling that he knew what was going on.  

  He knew because Ophiuchus was in Antares.

*                      *                      *                      *                      *

(Well, here it is.  I apologise for making you wait, but I do have things that need doing.  I will try to update more quickly next time.  How did you like the battle?  You've probably figured out by now where I'm getting the place names from.  If not, I'll explain next time.  Until then, please R+R.)     

1)  A poorly equipped low-pay soldier, mentioned in Shakespeare's _Macbeth_.

  


* * *


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Cheering mingled with the ringing of bells.  Rose petals cascaded in clouds from windows and rooftops.  The Soldiers of the Garrison, their armour and weapons polished to a sheen, stood to attention along the route, ensuring that the over-excited spectators did nothing 'untoward' to the Royal Party.

Yamato Ishida, King of Rigel, rode at the head of the party, preceded by pair of icon bearers carrying Rigel's banner.  It was a quartered shield, with the Ishida symbol of a split moon in the top right and bottom left corners, and the Yagami emblem of the eight-rayed sun in the remaining quarters.  

Yamato wore the same symbol on his surcoat, as did his companion, but with a horizontal white stripe over the top of it, indicating that the wearer was heir to the throne.  Whereas King Yamato wore a coif of fine chainmail crowned with a gold circlet, his companion wore only a silver circlet, exposing his silky blond hair.  Behind them ten of the Household Knights, dressed in their individual livery with blue scarves tied around their right arms, rode behind, followed by their own entourages.  The companion rode on a white horse, led by an Angemon, whereas Yamato rode on what looked like a huge blue and grey wolf. 

Though many cheered for the regal and dignified young king, the women swooned mostly for his companion, who smiled and waved, seemingly enjoying the attention.  

"You know what this is all about don't you?" Yamato spoke in a low voice.

"Of course brother," Prince Takeru replied with a grin.  "Taichi-san is trying to make you feel inadequate."  He sniggered as Yamato made an involuntary downward glance.  

"At least you're popular," Yamato remarked.  "If this is anything to go by, they won't be able to resist you in the Palace."

"Oh don't be that way brother, they like you too!" Takeru exclaimed, still grinning.  "And besides, there's only one girl I'm interested in, though knowing my luck she's probably been dumped in a Convent and grown a beard!"

"Saint Wilgafortis for a wife!  Imagine!" Yamato exclaimed, failing to stifle his laughter.  

He doubted that it would be the case.

But any thought of King Taichi still made him angry.

As a youth, he and Taichi had grown up in the same household.  Despite being a distant cousin, he had been beneath the Prince in the hierarchy, thus condemning him to the role of a body-servant.

That had been bad enough, though he did not envy the groom of the stool(1).  The worst part had come later.

Though Taichi Yagami was the old King's eldest son and heir to the throne, there were some who said that he, Yamato Ishida, should have become King instead.  Where the King had been hot-headed and brash, he had always been cool and calculating.  

But it hadn't worked out that way.

The line of succession started with Taichi and his heirs, assuming he had any.  After that came Princess Hikari and her heirs.  This was undisputed, but the problem was with the next position.  

Yamato and his brother were distant cousins of Taichi and Hikari, as their fathers had been related.  Princess Mimi's father was Lord Tachikawa, the Baron of Arcturus, who was a cousin of Taichi and Hikari's mother.  

Though various factors gave either of them precedence, custom and practice dictated that Yamato be next in line after Hikari, followed by his brother Takeru, and then Mimi.

But the old King had not seen it that way.  After some hopelessly complex legal wrangling, he had placed Mimi before Yamato and Takeru, thus confirming her somewhat tenuous claim to the status of Princess.  

Even as King of the neighbouring country of Rigel, Yamato was in Taichi's shadow.  Rigel had for many generations been an 'ally' of Aldebaran, though some would say a flunky.

Not for much longer though.

King Yamato allowed himself a slight smile as he glanced at his grinning, gregarious brother.  Here was the instrument of his triumph.

He loved Takeru of course, and wanted him to be happy, but Takeru was a Prince and had to live up to his responsibilities, even if that included unpleasant marriages.

But it was perfectly possible for an arranged marriage to become a happy one.  Why should a man not have the best of both worlds?

If all went well, Prince Takeru certainly would.

Lady Sora froze as a figure stepped from the shadows, then relaxed when she saw that it was King Taichi, whom she had been summoned to see.

"You summoned me Sire," she bowed.

"Please," he came closer, smiling warmly, "call me Taichi."  But this just made her nervous.  He was the King, dressed in royal raiment with an orange cloak bearing the eight-rayed sun, ready for Yamato's imminent arrival.  She could not forget it.

Even if they were in private.

"Sora, how are Princess Hikari's proper functions?" Taichi asked bluntly.

"Proper functions…Taichi?"  Sora had a feeling she knew what he was asking about, but hoped to avoid answering.  It just wasn't the sort of thing people discussed.     

"You know what I mean," Taichi pressed, a mere hint of menace in his tone.  Sora knew what he wanted to know, and she knew why.

"It has come on time," she said eventually, with considerable reluctance.  "And of about the usual quantity."  

Taichi softened noticeably and she sighed with relief.  She had known him for years and cared deeply about him, but she knew his temper just as well.  She had a horrible mental image, based on experience, of how he would react if she were to tell him if 'it' had not happened at the appropriate time.   

"You know why it must be so," Taichi said severely.

"Yes," she replied.  "Yamato will want a virgin bride for his mystery visitor no doubt."  Her tone betrayed her concern.  She had not been Hikari's 'sister' for so many years to see her married to a man who would have her weave shirts while he filled his bed with peasant girls.

"Don't worry," Taichi put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  "I know who it is.  You have nothing to fear."

"You do?" Sora was genuinely surprised.  She had heard many rumours, but nothing solid as to the identity of Yamato's mysterious companion.  

Then she smiled.  "I knew that you would have only the best for her."

"She deserves the best," Taichi suddenly seemed distant and wistful.  "She always got it, from my father, everything.  He called her his bright little star…but it didn't change her."

"Taichi," Sora reached out and touched his shoulder.  "I know you didn't always get on with your father, and I can't say I blame you."

"Nor I you," Taichi turned to her, uncharacteristic gentleness replacing the wistfulness.  "After what he did to you and your mother."  

"Yes," Sora shuddered at the memory, at the things she had spent so long trying to forget.  "And I didn't agree with the things he said about you."

"Of course not.  You're much too clever to get involved in such things."  His arms snaked around her waist, unnerving yet comforting at the same time.  

"My clever Sora," he drew her close, "my sweet Sora."

"Taichi," she was frightened now.  Part of her wanted to give in, but another was screaming its dire warnings, chilling the soul that he threatened to warm.

_"Don't be a fool!  This is only the beginning!  He'll just use me and then drop me when someone prettier catches his eye!"_

"I love you," Taichi's eyes were level with hers, gazing into her turmoil.  "I always have, ever since we were children.  Everything was safe then, and we can be again."

"No!"  She pushed him away.  "This cannot be!  You know as well as I do!"  

Taichi staggered backwards, from surprise more than anything else.  Sora braced herself, preparing for his retribution.

But he seemed hurt rather than angry.  

"Why?"  He sounded like a little boy who'd been beaten for no good reason.  "Why not?  Anything is possible for us.  Nothing can be denied to us."

"It's just not right!"  She was angry and afraid.  She had promised herself that she would never be used again, yet now he was asking her to give herself to him.  She had given of herself too many times already.  "We both have responsibilities!"

"To hell with responsibilities!"  There it was.  There was the all too familiar anger, the burning passion that made Taichi who he was.  She could see it shining in his eyes as he stalked closer.  She prepared to fight him off, fearing what was to come.

"Do you care nothing for your heart?" Taichi's voice was cracking.  Must it always be a slave to reason?"  

"Taichi, we cannot, at least not yet," she caressed his cheek, and he began to calm down.  

"I'm…sorry," he looked away, his face red with shame.  "I should never have…let go.  It was unbecoming."

"It doesn't matter."  Sora smiled, hoping to end this little confrontation.  

  But she knew that this would not be the last time.

Takeru could not believe what he saw.

Had it really been eight years since he had seen her last?  Eight years for her to grow and change, and to become so much more than the innocent child he had known so well.

Yet there she was, a mere child no more.  In a way, he was glad that she hadn't elaborately dressed her hair or weighed herself down with jewellery or covered herself in crushed ant's eggs or whatever it was they used.  It would only have made her less beautiful than in fact she was.

The dress was a good touch though.  Apart from indicating that she was very wealthy, it suited his image of her.  White was a virgin's colour, with a golden tiara to remind all around that she was the crown Princess.  

And a low cut too, Takeru could not help but notice.  It was not so low as to be scandalous, but it was plain to see that she was not a little girl anymore.  It was not something his mother would ever have permitted.  

As he ascended the steps of the Alderamin palace, flanking his brother, it was all Takeru could do not to stare at the young woman standing at King Taichi's right hand.

The woman who might, very soon, be his wife.

That was the real purpose of this visit, of course.  The two young Kings would no doubt spend countless hours haggling and negotiating, scheming and planning.  

 By summer's end, he might not even be a virgin.

 He could not hear the greetings, the formalities, the droning ritual that accompanied such affairs.  All he could think about was Hikari.  Even as he bowed and kissed her hand, he longed to spend some time alone with her.

Was this love?  A mere sight enough to turn his heart inside out?

He certainly hoped so.  This felt too good to end.  

A self-conscious blush rose unbidden to his face as he realised that the other ladies were watching him.

Some of them were giggling.  They were always giggling.  What was so funny?

Hikari did not giggle though.  She was a Princess after all.  The others he knew, Princess Mimi, Lady Sora and Lady Miyako, managed to maintain their dignity, as did another.  A tall blonde woman he had never seen before, dressed in blue and standing behind Princess Hikari.  There was something familiar about the face though.             

He let it slip.  It was none of his concern.  His main desire now was to get to know Princess Hikari better.

Eight years was a long time.

*                                *                                  *                                  *                                  *                                  *

Prince Magnus knelt on the velvet carpet, Sir Conrad, 'Sir Samuel' and their digimon knelt behind him.  Before him, raised on a marble dais, was the throne of Antares, the banner of a black gauntlet clenched into a fist hanging on the wall behind it.

Seated on the throne, clad in furs and velvet, was his father; Stefan the third, King of Antares and now also of Eltanin, Corvus and Denebola.

Still magnificent, still deadly, despite his condition.  The King was not exactly old, but nor was he young.  This, combined with some unfortunate injuries in his youth and the who-knows-what he kept drinking to sustain himself, left him in poor physical condition.  Several doctors had confirmed that he would soon be dead.

That he was even able to sit on the throne was strange indeed.  His face was thin and pale, almost skeletal, the skin translucent.  That he was even alive was a miracle.  

"Sire, I am glad to report that the campaign was a success.  Altair has fallen.  Eltanin and all its people are yours."

"This…is good news…" the King croaked, causing the courtiers to look up in surprise.  "Good news…for you at least." 

"Indeed Sire.  I must ask…"  
  "You ask nothing Prince!" the King interrupted with surprising force.  "Our command is that you lead our armies south.  With these our lands secure, our thoughts have turned to the rich countries there.  We order you to bring the aforesaid lands under our dominion, as you have done with Eltanin."

"As you wish Sire," Magnus meekly replied, feeling the cold again.  "My request was only for supplies and reinforcements.  They are necessary in order to continue."

"Of course…our powers are infinite…what the Prince requires…the Prince shall have.  Is that not so?  Myotismon?"  
 "Very true, my Lord."  There were gasps and whispered conversations as a tall figure emerged from the shadows between two of the tall marble pillars that lined both sides of the audience chamber.  It was wrapped in a black cloak, only the upper half of his pale face exposed, crowned with a lurid pink mask.  

"Two thousand troops are ready to swell your Highness' ranks, as are a thousand battle-ready digimon.  They can leave this very day."

"Excellent," the King croaked.  "Also, we release to you your digimon, Lupumon, to serve you as your mount.  I daresay you will need him."

Magnus sighed with relief as he heard this.  It meant that his beloved digimon was still alive.  Also, digimon and humans largely lived in peace together in the South.  In the North, with the exception of Antares, digimon were treated with suspicion by humans.  Eltanin had established herself by outright enslavement of digimon.

But no longer.  Antares dominated the North now, and there would be a new and better deal for all digimon.

In return for their new freedom and rights, those digimon who were able would fight alongside the human soldiers of Antares.  

Digimon, partnered digimon in particular, were more common in the Southern countries, such as Aldebaran and Rigel, so the extra digimon soldiers would be needed.

Apart from the joy he would also feel at being with Lupumon again, he wouldn't have to risk his expensive black stallion.  

"Also," the King spoke again.  "You may see your brother if you wish, as an assurance of our good faith."  

"I humbly thank your majesty, and beg leave to take up your most generous reward."  After a gesture of dismissal from the King, Magnus stood up and left, followed by his two Knights.

Out in the corridor, a figure in black knelt as Myotismon emerged from the small side door of the audience chamber.  

"My Lord, did all go as you planned?"

"Yes," Myotismon replied.  "It did."

"I grow tired of this charade," the figure snarled, shaking with barely-contained frustration.  "When will we make our move?"

"Patience," Myotismon reproached.  "All is not yet ready.  If I can wait ten years for this, then a few more weeks will not hurt."

"Weeks!?  The King is a corpse!  He only lives because of those _medicines _you pour down his dried-up old throat!  Why can we not move now!?"

"Because Aldebaran and Rigel still stand, as do her neighbours in the south," Myotismon maintained his calm in the face of the other's anger.  "There must not be any opposition remaining outside of Antares."

The figure seemed to accept this, though nothing could be discerned from his covered face.  Myotismon walked to the window, gesturing for the figure to join him.  They stood and stared down into the gardens, seeing Magnus embrace his younger brother and then Lupumon.  The sound of children singing could be heard, though they could not make out the words.  

"You may deal with them later," Myotismon said quietly.  "Once everything is completed.  I will send you with the Prince to ensure that he does it properly.  No messing about.  No clemency.  No deliberate mistakes."

"Yes my Lord.  The Prince has made his opposition quite clear.  Your suggestion that Prince Luke and Lupumon be held hostage was brilliant."  
  "Don't bother.  I'm immune to flattery."  Myotismon looked down at his follower, his weapon.  He was very tall, and as such he towered over most men.  

"Go now, get ready.  You will be leaving with the Prince shortly.  Remember your mission."

"Yes my Lord" the figure bowed and turned to leave. 

"Oh by the way, how is your eyesight?" Myotismon asked as an afterthought.  The figure stopped, and turned slightly.

"Excellent my Lord, thank you."  He turned again and disappeared around the corner.  Myotismon turned back to the window and continued to watch the Princes.  A malevolent smile spread across his pristine face.

He could make out what the children were singing now.

  _Bright, the shining light of love,_

_Warm its glow from high above._

_All is hope and never fear,_

_All the world shall see and hear._

_No more hate to cloud our way,_

_All join hands and all shall say,_

_Nevermore shall we divide,_

_Nor shall fear our fate decide._

*                                *                                  *                                  *                                  *                                  *

(Owari)

(Sorry for the wait.  How did you like the song?  If you don't like the idea of Taichi asking about Hikari's 'proper functions', then I meant no offence.  I was just trying to keep it realistic, so pick on Taichi instead and stop sending letter bombs!

Anyway, thanks for reading this far.  Please review!

(1) I don't think this needs much imagination to figure out)! 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter 5

The evening was warm, with cool and silent breezes blowing across the gardens.  It was a perfect combination.

 Takeru did not bother to wonder if his meeting Princess Hikari alone in the gardens was really by chance, or whether something else was involved.

He did not care.  All he could really think about was her.  She had changed her white gown for a pale orange one.  It was noticeably more modest than the other, which she had more than likely borrowed from Princess Mimi.

"I always wondered if I would ever see you again," Hikari spoke up, startling him from his reverie.

"I have often thought of you," he replied, doing his best to seem cultured and charming.  "Even through all these years.  I can see that you've grown since I last saw you."

He meant to sound complimentary, but she just frowned slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said, far too quickly.  "I didn't mean to be coarse."

"It's not your fault," she replied, somewhat sullenly.  "I'm just…disappointed really."

Takeru's heart sank.  Was she disappointed in him?

"In what way?"

"They say I'm a woman now.  Do you know why they say so?"

"Well…" the nervousness returned.  Why was she saying these things?  Why was she sharing _feminine_ secrets with him?  

He knew about _that_ of course.  Kings and Princes were expected to spy on their wives, their sisters and of course their daughters.  They needed to know the signs.  

"I…don't know," Takeru stammered.  It was a lie, a clumsy lie at that, but he was afraid of what she might think if he revealed his understanding.

"I'll tell you why.  It's because I'm ready to do the one thing I'm actually allowed to do.  I don't think I need to tell you what that is!"

"Hikari!" Takeru spluttered.  Was this normal?  In his brother's court women did not openly discuss their functions in this manner.  Why was she doing this?

"It's true!" Hikari went on, obviously peeved.  "Sora and Onnisan think I can't hear them, but I can.  Always talking behind my back.  Discussing me like I'm some sort of brood mare!"  She turned away from him and stood, shoulders hunched.  Takeru stared at her, recognising her anguish and knowing how she felt.  But what he really wanted to know was what to do now.

Did she just want to be left alone?  Would she snap at him if he tried to comfort her?  Or was that what she wanted deep down inside?

He decided to take a chance.  It was better than the awful silence.

"Hikari, I know how you feel."

"How can you!?" Hikari rounded on him, making him jump.  "You're not a girl!"  
  "Of course not.  It's just that…"

"Have you ever tried it?  I've got plenty of dresses and with a bit of imagination…"  
  "No!" Takeru recoiled in horror.

Then he realised that she was laughing.  It was not the simpering titter of courtly ladies, but full-throated and open-hearted.  It reminded him of her father, when they had all been together, except that she was considerably shorter and had no beard.  

Then he was laughing as well.     

 "I'm sorry!" she gagged and spluttered, still laughing.  "I just…I…"  She gave up trying to speak and just went on laughing until she eventually managed to calm down, blushing at her coarse behaviour.  

"I know this isn't very ladylike…but I couldn't help it!"  
  "I don't mind," Takeru was still laughing.  "I haven't laughed like this in a long time!"

"That's the funny thing about you Takeru," Hikari looked straight into his eyes, a blush reddening her cheeks.  "I haven't seen you in eight years, but I still feel like I can tell you anything."  
  "Anything?"

"Anything at all.  Just like when we were children."  She smiled, and offered him her arm.  He hooked his arm through hers and they strolled through the gardens, laughing and talking about, well, anything at all.

   In the cloisters parallel to the gardens, Princess Mimi could barely contain her excitement.  

_"It's working!  I can't believe it!  It's actually working!"_

Lady Miyako and Lady Jun were giggling as they watched the young pair.  They all knew what Taichi and Yamato were planning.  

Mimi looked up as she heard approaching footsteps.  Lady Sora came hurrying along the corridor, Biyomon running along beside her.  Seeing her childhood friend excited Mimi even more.

"What news?"

"Biyomon heard something from an Airdramon," Sora stopped and curtseyed, Biyomon doing likewise.  "Apparently there was a skirmish in Alioth this very day!"

"In Alioth?" Mimi saw Miyako start at the mention of the place.  "Who won?"

"The Earl of course."  Biyomon said with a giggle.  "Lord Ken Ichijouji.  They say he's an excellent warrior."

"Ken Ichijouji?"  Then suddenly Mimi started giggling.  "Ken-chan?  They've turned little Ken-chan into a Magnate of the realm?  What else do we know about him?"

"Apparently he's a bit…unusual," Lady Jun said conspiratorially.    
  "What do you mean?" Miyako asked sharply.  

"They say he's never taken a mistress," Jun went on, though she was alarmed by the dark looks Miyako was sending her way.  "They say he is…unnatural."

"How dare you!" Miyako snarled.  "How dare you say such things about him!"

"Miyako calm down!" Mimi interjected sternly.  "I won't have this behaviour.  Kindly compose yourself."

"I'm sorry," Miyako immediately replied.  "But I've had enough of people saying such things!  Ken has done nothing to deserve all these accusations!"

"I'm sorry Miyako" Jun said with surprising humility.  "I only heard about it in a letter from my brother a few years ago."  
  "Your brother?"  Mimi was mystified.  "Do we know him?"

"No, he was sent away to become a squire many years ago."  Mimi wasn't sure, but there might have been tears in her eyes.  

"To whom is he a squire?" Sora asked, intrigued.  

"Sir Robert Valindale," Jun replied, distaste in her tone.  "The so-called Knight Supreme."  

"Sir Robert Valindale?" Miyako was genuinely surprised.  "I thought that he was a great champion of Tournaments?"

"Yes, but that doesn't make him a nice man," Jun scowled.  "I overheard him telling my father that Knights who follow the code of chivalry should be made to dress as women because that is what they are."

"And he gave your little brother to him as a Squire?"  Biyomon was shocked.   

"I begged father not to," Jun sniffled.  "But father said it was his only chance."

"I wouldn't worry," Sora reassured her.  "If what Biyomon heard is true, then he ran away from the fight, disgracing himself and disgracing himself further in so doing."

They all broke into fits of giggles of that particular image.

"Oh his poor horse!" Mimi managed to say.  "Imagine the smell!"

"Also, a squire apparently distinguished himself by fighting off a Kuwagamon," Sora continued.  "A squire, with a Veemon."

"Daisuke had a Veemon!" Jun squeaked.  

"He'll be all right," Miyako insisted.  "Ken-chan would never give them back to Sir Robert unless he had to."

"I don't think a disgraced Knight can make demands of an Earl," said a voice from the greenery.  The girls were unperturbed as Palmon emerged from a floral arrangement.  

"Ah, Palmon," Mimi was pleased to see her.  "Your hiding is superb."

"Thankyou," Palmon blushed at the compliment.  "Though I still can't find Hawkmon anywhere."  Mimi smiled, though it was no mere game of hide and seek.    

 She and Hikari were princesses, and as such their lives were in danger for much of the time.  Their digimon, along with those of the other girls, were responsible for their protection if any attacker actually managed to get near them.

As such, the digimon practiced concealing themselves, as there is nothing more off-putting for a would-be assassin than constantly looking for unseen enemies.  

"Palmon is right of course," Mimi said.  "Though we had best be careful.  He might try to ingratiate himself with the King."

"I hope not," Miyako comment in a worried tone.  "Taichi dislikes Ken-chan enough as it is."

This brought stares from the others.  They all knew about the long-standing and in their opinion quite ridiculous feud between the King and Lord Ken, but they had not dared to believe that Taichi would do as Miyako was hinting.

"I don't think we need to worry about that," Sora tried to break the tension.  "He might be the King, but he wouldn't dare go that far."

"I think you're right," Biyomon agreed.  "Just so long as Ken doesn't give his Majesty an excuse."

*                                *                                  *                                  *                                  *                                  *

Daisuke wasn't just cold and hungry.

He was nervous too.

They had returned to Lord Ken's castle in the city of Alioth in the early afternoon the previous day.  The first order of business had been to send Sir Gregor's body back to his Manor of Alphard, where it would be interred in the parish church.

Then his 'observances' had begun.  

First he had to spend several hours kneeling on the stone floor of the chapel, wearing only a linen shirt, in prayer and meditation.  He had not been allowed to eat, supposedly part of the ceremony. 

In the _very_ early morning, they had made him take a freezing cold bath, supposedly to wash away the sins of his previous life, but all it did was make his teeth chatter.  

He was now clad in a white tunic, black pants and red cloak, which apparently represented purity, his bond to the earth and willingness to shed blood respectively.  He was also hanging around in an ante-chamber of the main hall, interminably waiting.

This was what he had hoped for.  For all those years he had endured, with only Veemon's encouragement and this dream to keep him going.  It might be tough, it might be embarrassing, but he wasn't going to give up now.  Not when all he had to do was _not_ screw this up.

 "My Lord I beg a boon," spoke Sir John Clairmont, kneeling before Lord Ken.

 "Ask and we shall grant it," Lord Ken gave the customary reply, "if it be within our power and a proper thing."  

He stood on the dais in his audience chamber, his new armour shining in the candlelight.  Purchased using the retainer Yuri had paid as part of his ransom, he finally looked the part.

"My Lord, I beg you bestow the accolade of knighthood upon Daisuke Motomiya."  

"Do the Knights of Alioth find Daisuke Motomiya worthy of the accolade of knighthood?" Ken turned to those of his noble vassals who were present.

"Aye!" they called in response.  A mere formality, but a necessary one.

"Then call forth the candidate."

"Daisuke Motomiya, come forth and kneel before thy lord!" called a herald.  A side door was opened and Daisuke entered, standing before the dais.  Though he looked a lot better than he did the day before, his handsome face was a shade of red.  

"Daisuke Motomiya," spoke Father Carrius, Lord Ken's chaplain.  "Having spent the night in meditation, have you discerned your purpose?"

"I have," he replied, with all the confidence he could muster.

"Why do you wish to be a Knight?  For treasure or for honour?"

"For neither."  

Ken drew his sword and held it point upward.  

"Know that to be a knight is to hold a sacred trust," he spoke in a loud, clear voice.  "This trust shall demand thy every effort from this day until the ending of thy life.  

A Knight must be courageous, his blade to defend the weak and helpless.

A Knight must be chivalrous, his manner courteous and his nature generous to all.

A Knight must be pure of heart, free from doubt, free from desire, his thought and word the truth alone.  

A Knight must be valorous, never to flee but when his Lord or the King commands.  

A Knight must be, always and forever, a champion of right and good.

Do you, Daisuke Motomiya, accept this burden of Knighthood?"

 "I do."  

Sir John, along with two other Knights, came forward.  Daisuke did his best to keep still as one of the Knights buckled a belt around his waist.

"Wear this belt as token of thy proven might."

  The other placed a gold chain about his neck. 

"Wear this chain as token of thy fealty."

Sir John bent and fastened spurs to Daisuke's boots.

"Wear these spurs as token of thy knighthood.  In the stead of thy master Sir Robert Valindale, I free you from your station as his Squire."  

He stood up and backed away along with the other two.  Daisuke fortunately remembered to kneel as Ken stepped forward.

This was the climax of the ceremony, and Ken felt the tension.

_"I hope I'm making the right choice."_

"Bear these blows as a reminder of thy vows."  He touched the sword on Daisuke's right shoulder and then on his left.

It was done.  With this, he had committed what could be construed as treason.  There would be trouble.

But there was no other way.  King Taichi would never grant permission to him, and would never knight any candidate he suggested.  Such was their feud.  He would just have to hope that the information in his letter was useful enough to divert the King's wrath.    

"We charge thee to be brave," he lifted the sword from Daisuke's shoulder, doing his best to hide his foreboding.

"We charge thee ready and loyal," said the other Knights in unison with him.  "And to keep thy vows."  Ken sheathed his sword.

"Arise, Sir Daisuke."  

_Owari__.___

(How did you like this last bit?  It's based on various accounts of knighting ceremonies, and as there was no set ritual, I thought I could get away with it.  I can add more Takari if need be, and the other pairings should be emerging by now.  If you find any of this offensive, please tell me and I'll deal with it.  Please R+R.)


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter 6

Prince Magnus was not enjoying himself.

He had returned to the army several days earlier than expected, having been given the use of a Royal Airdramon.  That was one excuse gone, leaving him with few other ways of delaying the campaign.

To make matters worse, he had been saddled with the most unpleasant of companions.  A mysterious warrior, clad entirely in black, with his face covered at all times.  He knew for a fact that the man was a spy, sent by Myotismon to ensure his cooperation.

Sometimes, just sometimes, he became concerned about the influence the digimon had over his father.  It was only because of Myotismon's infusions that the King was still alive.  This he knew, and so did Myotismon.

But that was not the most immediate problem.  This dark companion Myotismon had foisted on him had complicated matters, ever since they had arrived at the base camp near the Eltanin-Aldebaran border.  He insisted on being present at all councils of war and was not shy about giving his opinion.

This annoyed the War Captains, many of whom had spent so long fighting that they had developed an instinct for it.  Magnus did not wish to alienate them, but neither could he afford to reign in this person, whose name he eventually wrung from him.

"I am called Uriah, your Royal Highness," he replied when asked.  

An odd name to be sure, but one that Magnus had heard before.  The Heralds had no record of any such person, but suggested that it was a biblical pseudonym.  The fashion had existed for many years, ever since a particularly brutal civil war six years ago.

Magnus had been a child at the time, but he remembered all to well what he had been doing.  Even after all those years, he profoundly wished that he could forget.

Sir Conrad had spent two hours in search of a Priest, finding only a pudding-faced ignoramus with little more education than his peasant flock.  Sending the fool away in disgust, Magnus had called upon the Bishop of Orion, who was accompanying the army.  The Bishop did not like being dragged from his meditations, which seemed to involve scuffling noises and high-pitched giggles, but gave Magnus the answer with good grace.

It had made him think.  He now had some answers, but many more questions too.  

So Magnus had left the Bishop to his observances and returned to his tent, deciding that he did not want to know who or what 'mister spankbot' was.  The image was very distracting.

That was the previous evening.  Even with 'mister spankbot' out if his mind, Magnus found no peace.  This was because his plans were failing disastrously.  

Despite all his best efforts, Sir Logan had not been able to drag out the pacification of Eltanin for anywhere near as long as he had hoped.  They had beaten the Eltanians too well, with most of the populace just glad to be alive and able to return to their homes.  With the ruling elite dead, imprisoned or collaborating there was no one able or willing to lead a revolt.  

To make matters worse, the reinforcements needed to invade Aldebaran had arrived weeks ahead of time.  Rather than marching more than two-hundred miles overland, they had sailed along the river Pisces and arrived in a matter of days.  Magnus now had little choice but to begin the invasion, as his army was ready and there was no good reason to delay.  

With Uriah spying on him, he dare not attempt deceit.  Though he could protect Lupumon, Luke's life was too high a price to pay.

So he watched from the top of a hill as his army marched past.  He sat mounted on Vulpimon, Lupumon's four-legged alternative form, accompanied by Sir Logan, Sir Tanya, Sir Conrad and Sir Sami.  A little further away stood his household cavalry, or _Hatamoto _in the Southern tongue.  Superbly equipped and mounted on fine chargers, these elite men-at-arms would fight and die at his command, though he could not understand why.

Below him marched his army of more than twenty thousand men and five thousand fighting digimon.  The human troops included around six thousand crossbowmen, five thousand halberdiers, two thousand skirmishers and three thousand men-at-arms, many of whom were knights.  There were also four thousand of Antares' elite heavy infantry, renowned in the South as the _Ryumusha_, the dragon warriors.  They were his finest human troops.

Of his digimon, approximately half were a mix of small digimon, such as Gotsumon, Gazimon, Agumon, Gatomon, Gabumon and many more.  What they lacked in size and power they made up for with enthusiasm and sheer numbers.  The other half were larger and stronger, fulfilling a variety of purposes.  

Behind them was the baggage train.  Five hundred Monochromon laden with supplies, the rest drawn in wagons or else carried on available backs.  The camp followers considerably outnumbered the soldiers.  Women, some of who were wives, children, cooks, merchants, prostitutes, and thousands of others.  

With any luck, the abundance of supplies would prevent the troops from looting, though there was little hope of it.  Antarian troops were unique in that they received a salary, but it was rarely enough and most spent it within a day.  They had little choice but to plunder whenever the opportunity arose.

Even so, the standing order was no looting except from those who fought.  The wily ones would no doubt find ways around it, but it might keep atrocities to a minimum.

Or so Magnus hoped.

 *                     *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      

It had been a week since Prince Takeru had re-entered her life, and Hikari still felt light-headed.  Walking through the gardens in the morning sunshine, she found that everything seemed more beautiful, more alive than it had before.  The flowers seemed more vividly colourful, the birdsong sweeter and more in tune.  Even the trickle of the water in the fountains seemed melodic.  

  She had always known that she would have to marry some day.  There was no getting around it.  She could try running off to a Convent, but she did not find the thought of Hessian underthings appealing.  And besides, Taichi would still drag her back.

As she had matured, turned from carefree girl to young woman, this reality had come closer and closer.  It made her bitter, knowing that she could not love as she pleased.  It was bad enough knowing that everything she said or did was being discussed behind her back.

There were times that she wished to be a normal girl, untroubled by royal obligation.  But it was a foolish wish.  Peasants were no more free than Kings, and in many ways they were less so.  If she had been the daughter of peasants, she would have ended up marrying whoever in the village happened to impregnate her first.

But then _he_ strode gracefully into her life.  And everything changed.

He was the sort of prince that gave Troubadours a reason for existing.  He was handsome beyond belief, his face unmarked by pox.  He was strong, cultured, unfailingly charming and polite, very different to the hyperactive little boy he had once been.

Yet at the same time he had hardly changed.  His true nature was still there.  He was kind, considerate, his touch soft and his manner gentle.  He also understood her and cared for her, they way he always had done.

That was why she enjoyed his company so much.  She could tell him anything and be sure of his sympathy and discretion if not his understanding.  

But she did not discuss _ladies things_ with him of course, as that made him nervous.  It was a surprise, but Hikari could tell that he was uncertain of his masculinity.  She could not think why, but he evidently was.  Maybe it was because he wasn't as big and burly as his brother and hers.  

It was obvious.  In Takeru's mind, if a girl was being intimate or even friendly towards him, that meant she thought of him as a girl.  Therefore he must be effeminate.  

_"It's silly for him to think that way.  Why shouldn't I feel at ease in his company?  Why shouldn't boys and girls be friends?  Must relationships be entirely sexual?  I know that Miyako and Iori aren't that way."_

She enjoyed and valued Takeru's friendship, perhaps more than any of her others.  He wasn't effeminate and their friendship did not make him so.  But it did meant that their marriage would be somewhat bearable.

_"Perhaps we'll come to some arrangement.  He'll probably want to take lovers, so perhaps he let me do it too.  We can still be friends."_

Halting suddenly, she looked into the water of an ornamental pond.  

_"Maybe he's right.  Maybe…I am_ _beautiful, despite what I once thought."  _

The self-consciousness she had felt for so long had disappeared.  She had come to realise that her face was indeed attractive.  And though her hair was rather short by the usual standards, it seemed to work well.  

She did not notice his presence until his reflection appeared in the water next to hers.  She looked straight at him, marvelling at the gleam in his eyes.

"It's a beautiful morning."  

"All the better for seeing you" Takeru replied gallantly, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Takeru, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Hikari decided to take the plunge.  "Something important."  
  "What is it?" Takeru was still smiling, though she could tell that he was worried by what she had said.

"I've been wondering," she started, then decided to stop stalling.  "Have you got your eye on anyone?"

"What?" Takeru was shocked.  "What on earth do you mean?"

"I just wanted to know," Hikari went on, finding that it was easier to keep going than to stop.  "I need to know how this is going to work."

"Hikari what on earth are you talking about!?"

"You know what they're planning" Hikari continued, referring to Taichi and Yamato.  "You know that we'll be married by summer's end."

"Well…yes," Takeru reluctantly admitted.  "But what does this have to do with me having my eye on anyone?"

"I don't mind if you are."  And she didn't.  It made no difference whatsoever.  It was just a marriage of convenience.  "And no one else will.  It's practically expected of you."

"Hikari, No!" Takeru was outraged, his eyes shining brighter with a passion she had never seen.  "Don't talk that way!  I would never do that to you!"

"Why not?" Hikari asked in surprise.  "This is a political marriage after all.  I'm sure there was someone else you…"

"Stop it!  I love you!"  At that, Hikari turned away from him, tears burning her eyes. 

"I _do_ love you!"  

"No Takeru," she replied serenely, turning to face him.  "You mustn't say such things."

  He had done exactly as she feared he would.  He had started spouting all that romantic claptrap that she knew was a pack of lies.  

She didn't know why he was doing it.  Maybe he wanted a smiling bride.  But it was time to end the charade.

"Hikari, what's wrong?"  He grabbed her by the elbow as she tried to back away.  "Tell me what's wrong!"

"Stop it Takeru!"  She wrenched her arm from his grasp.  "Stop pretending!  Stop lying to me!  Stop pretending that anyone could possibly love me!"

"I'm not lying!"  He couldn't believe it.  It was all going to hell.  "I _love _you!"

"No you don't!  And if you think of me as a friend, then please stop lying to me!"  With that, she turned and ran, covering her face with her hands.  Takeru made to run after her, but checked himself.  What was the point?

"What did I do?" he asked out loud.  What had he done?  Why was she being like this?  

Anger and frustration welled up inside him.  He took a swing at the fountain.

Then winced as he cracked his knuckles on the hard marble.  

He sat down, rubbing his knuckles, glaring at the flowers that had seemed so beautiful a moment before.  They were still beautiful, but they seemed smug now, so content, drinking in the warm sun.  He remembered Sora telling him that Hikari had planted them.

The anger came again.  He stood him and strode over to the flowers.  He couldn't stand to see them there.  Seeing all this beauty made him more and more angry.

He raised his foot, preparing to grind his heel into them for daring to insult him.  

Then he stopped, cursing himself for his childishness.

_"What am I doing?  They're just stupid flowers!  It's not going to solve anything."_

He recognised the anger within him.  He wanted rid of it, but destroying helpless flowers would not serve any useful purpose.  It was really only because Hikari had planted them.  

He had to get rid of these feelings.  If he had started wanting to hurt Hikari, what might it lead to?  He was angry with her, but not _that_ angry. 

Then he remembered that Taichi and Yamato were going hunting this morning.  Perhaps they would let him tag along.  

_Most illustrious and gracious majesty,_

_  It is my regretful duty to report the occasion of a most grievous danger.  In battle upon the northern border, my warriors did take captive a Yuri Kurakov, Count of Ophiuchus.  My historians have already confirmed his legitimacy, and have enclosed a reproduction of his arms lest your majesty require greater proof.   _

_I have cause to believe that this incursion is but the precursor to a more serious threat against the sovereignty of this Kingdom and against your majesty.  It is my firm belief that the armies of King Stefan of Antares do intend to make war upon us.  My spies report the massing of an army within the __land__ of __Eltanin__, and that this nation is now entirely under the control of Antares.  I beg your majesty to heed this warning and look to the defence of the realm._

_Also, if your majesty will forgive me, there is one more matter.  In the skirmish aforementioned, a Squire by the name of Daisuke Motomiya did distinguish himself most admirably.  Having seen this evidence of his valour, and judging him to be of good character, I have bestowed upon him with the blessing of the church and of the Knights of Alioth the accolade of knighthood.  I humbly ask, if it please your majesty, to ratify this._

_I beg to remain Sire, your humble and most obedient servant,_

_Ken Ichijouji, Earl of Alioth_

King Taichi lowered the letter, glowering.

"No, Lord Ken," he said quietly, to no one in particular.  "It does not please me."

(Did the romance make any sense?  I don't have much experience or understanding in this area, so it may not have come out right.  Hints will be much appreciated.  If anyone has any idea who 'Uriah' is, or what the biblical connection is, then please say so.  I will try to update soon.)  


End file.
